Merry Christmas England
by DarkPheonix 666
Summary: Its Christmas eve and everyone is sharing gifts at America's party. But England feels all alone. But a familiar face eases his sadness and wishes him a merry Christmas. FRUK, Fluff, Yaoi,


**England feels hurt at America's harsh words and gets some head-space**

 **But as always France notices his pain and decides to comfort him**

 **Fluff ensues**

 **Please review, follow and favourite**

England stood outside quietly leaning against the balcony for support. His green eyes slightly glazed lightly over due to his current semi-intoxicated state. He hadn't planned on getting drunk but after earlier it felt comforting. It dulled the ache in his chest and fought against his desire to cry in front of everyone upon hearing America's cruel words.

The whiskey in his flask kept him warm from the cold and to ease the anger he was currently feeling. While he could go back inside and speak to the other nations it felt too crowded for his liking. He was currently attending another one of America's yearly Christmas parties. However as per normal America had forgotten all about him and instead was showing off as usual.

He wondered if the younger nation even remembered what Christmas was truly about. Not the flashiness or showing off, but about the family spirit and time of giving, love and peace. About being with your loved ones and having fun, not about who had the biggest tree or the flashiest Christmas lights. But America's pride often overshadowed this.

But he didn't really feel like speaking to America right now or for the rest of the evening. Especially as he had insulted him earlier on his cooking the minute he walked through the door. To be hospitable, England had made a traditional fruit cake filled with rum (a family recipe).

He had worked really hard on it, even measuring and tasting the ingredients before putting it together. Hell, he had sat by the oven the entire time just to make sure it turned out ok. But as always America had insulted it and refused to even try it. Saying he would rather kiss he devil than attempt to eat any of England's cooking. Which had hurt the British male quite badly.

England knew his cooking wasn't really the best, a lot of his citizens cooked far better than he could. But he had worked really hard on the cake and though it was a little crispy it was still edible. Yes he had even taste tested it a little just to make sure the other guests would be able to survive the food he had made this time.

He sighed heavily and gazed up at the starry sky above him with sadness inside his heart. Deep down he wondered why he came to these damn parties, apart from being a gentleman and wanting to be polite. Honestly he often found himself just wanting to avoid everyone apart from the nations he could actually tolerate.

Nobody else really spoke to him much here, if they did it was only briefly. They never actually went out of their way to make conversation whatsoever except for the few nations he got along with. Then if they did it was to talk about how awesome America's party was (if America himself wasn't ranting about it).

England then took another swig of whiskey, the slight burn comforting him. He thanked Scotland for this, though it had taken a lot of bribing he was glad to have it with him. The redheaded nation had rejected the invite (which he wishes he had considered himself) as he had to work at his bar due to Christmas drunks.

He then gazed at the stars above him gripping the flask tightly in his hand. Though the party inside was not very much to his liking, he could appreciate how beautiful the night sky was. It was truly a peaceful night and it brought back memories of his years as a pirate. Having nothing but the ocean and the inky blue blanketed sky above him for comfort.

As the Brits back was turned, he failed to notice a familiar Frenchman coming outside for some fresh air. He then noticed England leaning against the balcony and made a quiet sigh of relief. He had escaped the party to come looking for England. He hadn't seen the British male around the party for some time and had become rather worried about him.

He had overheard America's rather cruel comment earlier about his cooking. Though it was not uncommon among the nations, given it was Christmas he had expected America to tone it down a little. Around this time of year you put aside your differences and came together to celebrate the season of love and peace with your neighbour.

England hadn't been seen anywhere around the party since. It wasn't hard to figure out that his feelings had been hurt by America insulting his cooking as per usual. Though usually he would never do so, he had hesitantly tried the cake England made. He had been pleasantly surprised by it, though crispy it had indeed been good.

The rich taste of fruit and booze mixing well together. It was fair to say the cake had been the first decent thing England had made in a while, though he would not admit it to the others. It showed that when he really tried and actually measured his ingredients, England was capable of making semi decent food.

He then spotted England leaning against the balcony gazing at the sky. The subtle scent of whiskey floating off of him in the breeze. He guessed the younger nation must have gotten it from Scotland. But how the redheaded nation had consented to giving up his prized liquor baffled him, given how he tended to hate sharing.

But what worried him most was that England was alone and drinking on Christmas. His eyes red from crying and standing out here alone in the cold away from the festivities. Christmas was a time of peace and love around the world. So why did England look so sad and hurt, like he was the loneliest man in the world who had lost everything?

"Angleterre, êtes-vous ici seul?" he asked worriedly. Wasn't he lonely out here all by himself? Why did he not go inside and speak with everyone else? He knew that England had at least a couple of nations who tolerated or enjoyed spending time with him. So why stand out here by himself and get drunk?

England scoffed. Why the hell would he want to go inside only to have America throw more verbal abuse at him? He was happier out here by himself where he could be alone. Where he could enjoy the quiet of the night and contemplate his own thoughts without someone butting in or making fun of him.

Usually he would chew out France too. But France had been the only person who tried his cake. Since France went out of his way to tease him about it, the fact he had tried it meant a lot. Since France tended to have a high palette taste given his country had quite the reputation in France for his cuisine standards.

"It's too crowded. Besides nobody would notice by absence. They're all too busy boasting about America's bloody party" he muttered in a hurt tone. When did they ever anyway? Ever since the revolutionary war when America gained his independence, he had gone out of his way to throw abuse at him. He constantly insulted him and tried to make himself always look the best.

He never respected him and always called him boring. If only America knew about his pirate or punk years (boy would he be in for a surprise). Then he would know just how colourful his past was. He would know how cool he was and how much of a rich and vibrant history he had, then he would respect him a little better.

Though he did still love the younger nation and always would. America needed to learn his limits and how to filter what he said to other people. He tended to be ignorant to how much his words could hurt others. There was no wonder he made so many enemies with other nations because of his big mouth and actions.

France gave England a sympathetic look. Though England had done his best to raise him as a nation before the latter became independent. But since the revolution America had tended to act like an ungrateful little shit. Though he had his redeeming moments he often tended to make them forgettable with his other antics.

His own ex ward Canada had turned out much better than his older brother. He was very polite, well-mannered and bilingual, speaking both French and English while carrying his own accent and culture. France was truly proud to have raised the younger nation into such a redeeming young man who was as charming as himself.

He was for more kind than America and had a big heart (but more often that not it made him look like a pushover). It was only a shame that he himself, South Italy, England and rarely America could see him. But even when people did he was mistaken for America which hurt him deeply.

Any other day Canada was mistaken for America and often blamed for things his brother did. The poor nation had it tough and yet was still amazing on his own. His cuisine being unusual and yet delicious, while being rather skilled and unrivaled when it came to his nations most beloved sport, Hockey.

"The cake you made was good Angleterre" France said kindly. Though he admitted the other nation needed more practice (which he was willing to give) it had been a good first attempt. Once England polished his skills up a little, he would gladly eat the cake again with some tea. But that would take a long time knowing England.

England's face heated upon this comment as he was rather caught off guard by France's compliment. The nation that usually tormented him for his lack of culinary skill was complimenting him? He thought nobody would ever attempt to eat his cooking. His track record of cooking had never been too good, but many of his citizens did him proud with their skills.

He was utterly amazed that the likes of France had consumed his cooking and enjoyed it. Could it be that someone had taken pity on him and granted his wish due to the festive season? He then swallowed nervously "W… Weren't you worried about getting sick?" he stammered nervously. Usually France loved to insult his cooking, often flaunting his own skill.

France smiled gently at the British nation "Oui, but it was a gamble I was willing to take". He knew that it would make England happy even if it was just a small taste. So he had been willing to risk getting sick or having a stomach ache if it meant he could see the smile on England's face because of it.

England's blush intensified to the colour of the mulled wine being served inside. He bowed his head shyly averting his gaze from the Frenchman. Though he would never admit it, he was very happy to hear such thing. He only wished America could have been as kind instead of being such a insensitive git.

France then approached the British nation quietly. As he got closer to England he reached out his hand and touched the latter's hand gently to comfort him. He was stunned to find England's hands were like ice. His cheeks reddened from not only the whiskey and blush, but the cold temperatures he had been standing out in.

"Ton Angleterre si froide" he said worriedly. How long had he been standing out here in the cold like this? Alone and sulking because America had hurt his feelings. He knew the younger country was used to cold weather and was endured it quite well. He still needed to look after himself, for his body was still human despite his immortality.

England then waved his whiskey flask lightly in his hand being careful not to spill any. He knew if he did that Scotland would be beyond angry at him. "Only on the outside" he said dryly. He was nice and warm on the inside so France needn't worry. The cold wasn't bothering him whatsoever.

France frowned but uttered not a word but inside he had much to say. He knew England drank to ease the pain he carried in his chest. He wasn't brave enough to talk about his feelings to other people. Though he teased England frequently, he knew the latter carried a lot of emotional bombs in his heart. But he never showed just how scarred he was inside to other people.

In that sense could respect how strong the latter was emotionally. It took a lot of courage to carry your own demons with such a colourful past and still smile as if it meant nothing. He then wrapped his arms around the other nation affectionately. Even if they fought and threw venom at each other occasionally, he would always be there for England.

"Alors permettez-moi d'aider" he said affectionately. If England was cold he would gladly keep him warm if he needed (both in a literal sense and a sexual sense). It was a time of giving after all, so he was keeping up to traditions. Plus he felt like babying the nation a little since he had been feeling like shit since earlier.

England stiffened in the embrace of the Frenchman. His cheeks still warm from the booze and now the highest of embarrassment levels. Though he was very happy that someone had noticed him. Even though he had felt alone and bitter about being treated so unfairly. Someone had noticed his pain and humiliation of being treated so badly during this time of year by as a guest.

Though England couldn't stand France sometimes, he was someone who knew him best of all. They had known each other for centuries and had a long history with each other. Though they would argue with each other a lot, they did care for and respect each other to an extent. And France was one of the few to notice the pain he hid from everyone else.

He then bowed his head shyly and muttered "Merry Christmas frog" under his breath. He may as well be nice to someone on this festive season and all. But after new year's he could throw any number of insults at him. But that was just the way they were, frenemies to the end but that was what they did best.

France smiled fondly, in his own way England was meant well and was grateful for his company. "Joyeux noel, Angleterre" he said fondly. He was glad to have cheered the Brit up and chased away the sadness he had previously felt. He hated seeing England look so sad, as it did not suit him.

The two nations simply stood there outside away from the party and the loud voices of the host and his guest. Content with each other's company as the snow fell around them like white petals.

 _ **Translations**_

 **Angleterre, pourquoi etes-vous ici seul? (England why are you out here all alone?)**

 **Alors permettez-moi d'aider (Then allow me to help)**

 **Joyuex noel Angleterre (merry Christmas England)**


End file.
